I’m waiting till 6:30 to go for my run so that we can stop at New Seasons on the way home to pick up tomatoes and avocados. Maybe cheese.
The sky is absolutely clear overhead—faintly aqua to pale gold around the edges with strands of pink clouds east of the city. Windows wide open. My coffee within reach. Gary reading news on his phone in the other room.
Imagine I am an ordinary citizen. When I take a government job, I swear to serve my country and uphold the law. When I leave that job a couple of years ago, I take my personal possessions with me, packed in cardboard boxes.
Imagine the Records Office discovers hundreds of documents are missing from my former place of work and that I am accused of taking secret documents with me when I left.
Continue readingAs I type, the night zombie is in the street screaming to no one: “Keep your opinions to yourself!” It is 6:35am and as he turns a corner, two blocks away now, the voice fades to where I can no longer make out his words. At least in the city, the dogs are mostly leashed.
Roses, submission, knitting, and Scottish Deerhounds in the park.
Ralph Yarl is home from the hospital and recovering, “a miracle” considering he was shot in the head before the “terrified” gun-owner shot him a second time as he lay bleeding on his front porch. He’d come to the porch to pick up siblings but rang the bell on a Street instead of an Avenue—or was it the other way around? The shooter fired through the glass in the door. Ralph is 5’8″ and weighs 140 pounds. Perhaps he weighs a little less after hospitalization.
A fifteen year old girl in Georgia is taking birth control despite being a virgin because abortion rights have been ended in her state. She is scared to death that the law might require her to carry a rapist’s baby to term.
This month I have been thinking about whether a better world might be possible? I thought, maybe yes, and wrote a book to find out how. And I did not intend to write any of this post today. But there you are. We never know.
Word count, dental visits, complaints about the weather, lies, and the lying liars who tell them.
A review of my writing and plans for April. No kidding.
“Vogue Philippines released its April issue on Friday and its newest cover model is an 106-year-old indigenous Kalinga woman, Apo Whang-Od, also known as Maria Oggay.” It would have been more impressive (on the part of Vogue) if this had been the cover of the US edition.
Years ago, the Art teacher at the coastal high school where I was also a teacher for thirty years asked the Biology teacher to pick up a special-order book for her while she was shopping at Powell’s Book Store in Portland. (I was not that Art teacher—I taught Art in Washington State—this was Sandy, the reason I went on to teach English.) Diane drove 80 miles over the coast range to Powell’s and was horrified to discover that there was a nude on the cover of the book. Yes, a naked man! Michelangelo’s David. She was embarrassed to be seen with the book. No, I am not kidding.
Snow days, eagles, red snapper (warning: the fish is dead), and symptoms I am old in no particular order.
Sneaker waves, white male privilege, assumptions, earthquakes. [Mine as well.] The terrible ironies we live with every day.
SNEAKER WAVES. I was working in the Library, a Wednesday when I generally stayed late to provide access to students until the evening. However it was the last day of school, and students were furiously clearing out their lockers, signing yearbooks, and on their way to summer vacation. E stopped to say hey. He had just completed his Sophomore year, so I hadn’t had him in class yet. But we chatted, laughed, and both managed to be clear about looking forward to spending time together in the fall.
My friend was at the coast for a graduate residency. She expressed concern that students warned about sneaker waves seemed to think it was a joke.
&PRIDE Press 